Welcome Home, Stranger
by DaisyGreen215
Summary: When we're not us...Challenge fic, C-A


Disclaimer: "They're not mine, but they're not yours either, so back off, biatches." (You can thank Andrea for that.) Or, you know, I don't own 'em. Way to burst my bubble.

A/N: Big thanks to Nette for her encouragement and praise – we're so "hopeless" and yet 'one can only hope,' right? Quick, to the tattoo parlor! Coffee and pie to the whole OCOH crowd. Thanks and a shoutout to Andrea – I borrowed back my 'asshole' line, as you'll see. Big hugs to my Meggers (ha ha) for being at my table (Bitter, party of two).

Summary: Written in response to a challenge at the OCOH board – had to include the phrase 'Welcome home, stranger,' befit Carter and Abby, and be about Carter returning from Africa (at some point).

No.

Nononono.

It's not real. It can't be. I'm not ready for it to be.

He's standing at the lockers, talking to Susan, as if nothing had ever happened. As if he had never been away. As if he had never disappeared to the wilds of Africa months ago with little more than a 'see ya later.' 

As if he had never broken my heart.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He was supposed to come back, and I was supposed to be over him. Like actually be over him, not just in the sense of feeding lines to Luka and Susan to get them off my back and make them stop worrying about me. And now, here he is. 

I can do this. I can do this. I'm stronger than this. I can go over there, grab my coat and bag, and leave for the night without it being any big deal.

Denial is a wonderful thing.

Susan catches sight of me over his shoulder and pauses mid-sentence. I can see him begin to turn, but before his line of vision reaches me, I'm gone. Hurrying down the hall, head down, heart pounding. Out the doors, into the ambulance bay, calling over my shoulder to Jerry that I'm off, be back the next evening.

And then I'm running. Pounding down the sidewalk with an energy that I didn't know I could possess after being on call for thirty-six hours straight and without a good night's sleep in…how long? 

Insomnia has been an unwelcome but constant companion…and when I manage to ditch it, nightmares take its place. Different scenarios, same ending, as always. Him, gone for good, and me too late.

As always.

 I'm up the stairs, digging in my pockets for change for the turnstile, and on board the train before I think to take another deep breath.

Coward. Can't even face him. Chicken-shit. Ran away before anything could happen.

Fool. Fell in love.

Well, how the hell am I supposed to react? Just clap him on the shoulder with a cheerful 'Welcome home, stranger,' and be done with it? Act like I don't lie awake at night, missing his arms around me, missing the sound of his breathing next to me, missing his scent on the pillow? Pretend that our time together meant nothing to me, that he was nothing more than just another warm body, just another good screw? Go about my life as if I'm not aching inside, as if it's actually possible for me to be truly happy without him, as if he didn't take a part of me with him when he left?

Ha. I wish. 

The truth is, I haven't stopped thinking about him since that moment in the ambulance bay, that time when I begged him to stay, asked him to stop and talk to me. 

Déjà vu. That night at the El station all over again. It seems so long ago.

Only this time, he didn't come back. He wasn't waiting at my gate, wasn't sure of where we were. Didn't even care, apparently. No call from Paris, no communication after that letter.

Oh, God, the letter. I never knew a few pieces of paper could tear a world apart, but sure enough, they can.

And did.

All of which has led me to this – wind-sprinting to the El in the dead of winter without my coat, without my bag, without – _shit – my keys._

Par for the course today.

I get off at my stop, planning to buzz my neighbors and ask them to let me in the building so I can call Susan and ask her to bring my bag – she's off soon, right? Tonight, at least? She's got to take a break sometime. And besides, what're a few hours of waiting in the hallway if it means not having to go back and risk facing him? 

Wow. I never thought it would get to this point. To the point where I'd rather sit in the stairwell for hours on end, and plead with Susan to use her coffee break to bring me my keys – all just so I don't have to talk to him.

Talk to him. Hell, talking is all we used to do. Whenever we got the chance, about everything and nothing. And it was wonderful.

I miss it.

No.

I miss him. 

Us.

I reach my building, hurrying in the gate and up the steps as I see a couple opening the main door. I squeeze in behind them, explaining my situation and asking to borrow their phone to call work.

*~*~*

I'm staring to doze off against the banister when I hear a knock at the frost-covered door, and I hurry to open it.

"Thank you so mu-" 

I freeze mid-sentence. 

"Abby."

Oh God.

He's here. Standing in front of me, looking decidedly uncomfortable, and extremely nervous. 

Well, good. I hope he's nervous. Bastard. He _should_ be scared.

"Uh, Susan asked me to bring this by. She said you forgot it…?" He holds out my bag awkwardly.

Of course she did. Naturally. This is Susan, of the can-never-let-well-enough-alone school. I should have guessed. She's wonderful, but I'm going to kill her for this one.

I reach for it. "Yeah…um, thanks."

"Sure." There's a pause, and I have never before felt so completely ill at ease. Quickly, I move towards the stairs

"Well, see you-"

"So you're back in med school?"

Oh, please. No small talk. I can't do this tonight. Please not tonight. Wasn't seeing him out of the blue enough to deal with at once?

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Wow…that's a big change."

"Yes, apparently I am capable of that. Changing, you know."

Well, then. Bitter, party of one? But why shouldn't I be? Surely I've earned the right to be somewhat jaded? Especially when it comes to him.

He laughs, but it's short and hollow. "Yeah, apparently so. Amazing how that works, isn't it? One of these days, maybe you'll do it for the right reasons."

What the hell?

"Excuse me?"

"Well, come on, Abby. If this is some sad attempt to prove something to me, another one of your little 'quick fixes' to show me something-"

WHAT? 

I hold up my hand, stopping him. "_Excuse me?"_

"You heard me. For once."

That does it. That fucking does it. Hell hath no fury like a heartbroken woman.

"I _beg _your pardon!" I give his chest a shove. "Who. The hell. Do you think. You are?" I bite off the pieces of the sentence, punctuating each one with another push. "I've had it! I have had it with your sanctimonious, self-righteous bullshit! You don't know anything about what I've been doing since you left, and if you think that you can just waltz back into my life and judge me, stand there and tell me what I'm doing with myself and who I'm doing it for, then you've got another thing coming."

"Then tell me! Talk to me!"

"Well, you know, Carter, I tried! I asked you not to go, and what did you do? You left me!"

"Oh, of course, always the victim. Why is it always about you, Abby?"

"Because this _is about me! This is about you and me, and the fact that YOU LEFT ME, you asshole! I know I asked a lot of you, but of all the promises to break, you had to pick that one – the only one I actually __needed you to keep!" Quite clearly, I hear it. Seeping through all my anger, all those months of pent-up rage, is a deep and undeniable hurt. _

Okay, stop. I need to stop. This is getting too close to home, and the last thing I need is to spill everything to him right now. There are some things that he's better off not knowing, and I just can't do this tonight. 

"Well, it would have been great for you to _tell me this before! I mean, it's so easy for you to say this to me _now_, but where was all this refreshing honesty when it mattered?"_

"Dammit, Carter! I tried to tell you! I did everything I could-"

"-Except to actually admit that you needed me!" It explodes out of him, his voice wounded and raw with anger.

I will not cry. I. Will. Not. Cry.

"Abby…are you crying?" His voice is incredulous.

Shit. Damn him for doing this to me. He steps towards me, reaching out, his face having gone from contorted with fury to somewhere between confusion and sympathy, but I swat furiously at his hand.

"Don't! Don't touch me! You've done enough. Just…go."

"No."

"What? I told you to leave." Please just go. I'm not strong enough to do this. I don't have it in me to get my heart torn to pieces all over again, and I'm so tired of pretending that everything's alright.

"And I said no."

"Look, Carter…I think we both just…need some time…" Time is all there's been in my life lately. Time made up of so many lonely days and enough cold nights to last a lifetime. And I hate it. God knows I hate it.

"I think we need to finish what we've started. I want to know why you're crying."

"No." Don't do this to me…not again…

"Abby..."

"NO! You…you felt like what we had was so…inconsequential and meaningless that you just couldn't wait to get rid of it-"

"-That's not true-"

"-so you ran off to Africa without-"

"I couldn't stay!"

"Why not? Just tell me why not!" 

"Because I had nothing to stay for! And I know you hate me for it, Abby, and I don't blame you, but-"

"I could never hate you." Mind, this is the heart. Heart, meet the mind. Please…for once…I'm begging you.

He pauses, startled, his arms dangling by his sides, face flushed with emotion and from yelling.

"What?"

"I…could never _hate_ you, Carter." I'm so tired, so very tired, like all those shifts and all this hurt and anger have suddenly caught up to me and are making their collective presence known at once. 

"I wanted to…I wanted to hate you, and I tried…so hard…but…" I feel like everything's coming crashing down, the room is spinning and I just want it to stop, I just want all this pain to stop, I want to stop being so lonely, I want to feel again, I want to remember how it felt to be happy... 

"I…couldn't." I'm whispering now, feeling around behind me for the handrail to the steps, trying not to collapse as I sink to the stairs, shaking and pale, burying my head in my hands, feeling his hands grasping at my wrists.

"Abby? Talk to me. Tell me. Please…make me understand."

"I don't know anymore…John…" Spinning…don't leave...please help me. I'm drowning, I'm in over my head, and I can't keep treading water.

"Tell me."

"Please…make it stop." I breathe, as I pitch forward, and he drops to his knees on the stoop in front of me, our bodies meeting as we both fall, supporting each other in an embrace.

I'm trembling, can't stop, can't focus, feel his tears wet my shoulder as he gasps for words.

"Abby…Ab…I…God, I'm sorry. I was so scared and so…lost…and I didn't know what to do, so I ran. I did exactly what I always asked you not to do, and I left. And I'm…I'm so sorry…if I could go back…It's just…when we're not 'us'…"

My own tears begin to fall, my voice hushed and cracking. "…it all falls apart," I finish.

I feel him nod against me. 

"I missed you…" I murmur, "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hid …I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me…"

"I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I left," he whispers back. "I'm sorry I was too stubborn…I missed you so much...God, Abby…thank you. Thank you for finding me."

I relish the warmth radiating from him, his arms around me, the familiar feeling, like coming back to where I belong after a long journey. 

"Welcome home."

*~*~* Fin. *~*~*


End file.
